Something More Than Friendship
by PaperTownsandPiragua
Summary: Simon and Baz formed a shaky truce in their sixth year at Watford. Now, it's seventh year, and they're friends. But when Simon finds his feelings for Baz turning into something more than friendship, who knows what will happen? Rated T for language and all the usual reasons why fics are rated T.
1. Chapter 1

**This isn't my first fic, so... Hopefully it's pretty good. I can't promise I'll finish it. Characters, world, etc, belong to Rainbow Rowell. **

Simon

Baz and I are friends. I'm not entirely sure how this happened… But I'm glad it did. We formed a shaky truce sixth year -last year- and this year, we're proper friends. We say 'good morning' when we get up, and it's not sarcastic. We exchange hellos in the halls, and sometimes Baz smiles. We eat lunch together sometimes, and Dev and Niall are actually pretty nice, when you get to know them.

And I like this. I like it so much better than fighting. I like being friends with Baz. I like that Penny and Agatha are friends with him, because Penny finally has someone to talk about books with, and Baz and Agatha act like they've been friends their entire lives, and it's nice seeing Agatha happy.

Agatha and I aren't dating anymore. It was a mutual agreement, last year. We decided we're better off as friends. And friends we are.

And the Mage hasn't had to send me on missions lately. I'm not constantly worrying about the Humdrum. I've been getting good sleep and I haven't had any injuries in the last month. I haven't gone off since the end of last year, which is a fucking miracle.

So yeah, everything's pretty much perfect right now.

Except for one thing.

I think I fancy Baz.


	2. Chapter 2

Simon

No, I _know _fancy Baz. I most definitely do. I have for awhile now. I mean, you don't look at a enemy-turned-friend and think about running your hands through their hair… You don't wake up and wonder what shade of grey their eyes are today… You don't think about sucking on their bottom lip till it turns pink… You don't shiver with want when you catch a glimpse of their bare skin… You don't think about sliding your hands under their shirt and- Well. You get the idea.

So, yeah, I fancy Baz. And it's torture, to be honest. Knowing I fancy him while also knowing that he'll never feel the same. I mean, even if he did, the Mage, and his parents...

Oh. Right. There's also the fact that fancying Baz means I'm probably gay. Which is fine. I just… I dunno, I never thought about it before. I just assumed I was straight. Actually, I think I assumed _everyone _was straight. So maybe Baz _is_ gay… But maybe not.

Merlin, this is confusing.

I'm lying in bed, after classes and before dinner, thinking about all this. Baz is at football practice. I'd be out there, watching, but I needed some time to myself to think. Actually… Now that I think about it, the only reason I ever watched football practice is that Baz is really fit, and watching him play kind of turns me on.

… Which is another reason why I'm not watching right now. I don't need another… _problem _right now. Not so close to dinner. So.

Maybe I should tell Penny about this… About fancying Baz, I mean. And being gay. She'd be all right with it; I think she told me that Premal's gay once. I _should _tell her. We've got our no-secrets pact. She'd be mad if I kept it from her.

So, I'll tell her. Just not right now; she's working on a project or something tonight; I don't want to bug her. Penny tends to get mad when you interrupt her studying. And it's late, anyway. Football practice'll be over soon, and I should head down to dinner...

The door swings open, and I sit up as Baz walks in. "Oh, hey, how was practice?" I ask, trying to be as casual as possible, and also _not stare at Baz. _It's really hard not to stare at him, though- his hair is pulled back into a small bun; I've never seen his hair up before. It's _really_ hot. (He's also covered in mud, which is pretty common after football practice.)

Baz shrugs. "It was alright. We've been in worse shape." I smile a little. "But you've been in better shape, as well?" I ask. Baz grins, and I hold back a swoon. "Yeah." He stretches, and his shirt rides up, revealing a pale stretch of skin. I swallow hard, but thankfully Baz doesn't seem to notice. "I'm going to go get in the shower," Baz tells me. I nod, and he walks into the bathroom.

I decide that it would be a good time to head down to the dining hall. I don't really want to be in the room when Baz gets out of the shower.

Baz

Simon's not in the room when I get out of the shower. I assume he's gone down to dinner; I should do the same fairly soon. I get dressed quickly, doing my best not to think about the way Simon looked at me when I walked into our room...

It was a look full of _want._ I'm sure I imagined it- I imagine that sort of thing all the time, as one tends to do when they are in hopeless, unrequited love with someone. But part of me hopes that it was, possibly, an actual look of want and longing and also, maybe, lust.

Again, I doubt it. But again, maybe.

If it _wasn't_ that kind of look, then, well…

Crowley, I wish I could be satisfied with just being friends with him. I really do. But I _can't_ be satisfied with that- not when I _want _him. Not when I want him with every fucking fiber of my body.

I mean, yes, I'm glad we're friends now...

But I want _more._ I've always wanted more. And I want to tell him I want more- but what good would come of that?

None. No good could ever possibly come of me telling Simon Snow how I feel about him. It would ruin our friendship, I'm sure- and I don't want _that_. I like being friends with him; it's so much better than fighting.

Being able to say 'hello' and 'good morning' and talk about football and classes, instead of exchanging glares and biting remarks every day. Being able to sit together at meals, which means I can 'accidentally' bump his knee under the table, instead of him staring me down from across the room. Being able to talk to Bunce and Wellbelove without Simon thinking I'm plotting- _and_ he doesn't think I'm plotting anymore; that's another benefit.

And _yes_, it's not _enough-_ it'll _never _be enough.

But if this is what I get; if this is all that Simon is willing to give; then I'll take it.

I might as well fucking take it. While it lasts.

Because Crowley knows it won't.


End file.
